By night an atheist half-believes in God.

Take God from nature, nothing great is left.

All men think that all men are mortal but themselves.

Affliction is a good man's shining time.

Blest leisure is our curse; like that of Cain, It, makes us wander, wander earth around, To fly that tyrant Thought. As Atlas groan'd The world beneath, we groan beneath an hour.

I've known my lady (for she loves a tune) For fevers take an opera in June: And, though perhaps you'll think the practice bold, A midnight park is sov'reign for a cold.

We are all born originals - why is it so many of us die copies?